


We're Flying Away

by hermankozik



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, First Time, Flash Forward, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 01:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3310178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermankozik/pseuds/hermankozik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After all these years, she's still called “SAMCRO's princess” and treated more like a precious commodity than an actual person. Olivia Teller knows how much her family loves her and wants her safe, but it's not enough; she wants to be accepted for who she is and not what she is. Lucky for her, she always has her best friend Opie in her corner, and the Sons' newest member, Juice, looking out for her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's All or Nothing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copperleaves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperleaves/gifts).



> Oh boy, here we go! This started with a bunch of "hey, what if...." messages, and now it's a full-blown thing. INFINITE love and thanks to Meg, who's lending me her beautiful character of Olivia, and for spending countless hours talking about this little universe, encouraging me along the way, and helping to edit what I've done. Wouldn't be posting this without you. 
> 
> You may have noticed the "rape/non-con" and "underage" tags on the top; the non-con will happen in a later chapter, and there will be a disclaimer in the notes when it happens. The underage and non-con DO NOT go together, though!
> 
> Also just to note: keep an eye out for the time stamps in each chapter/each break, they're key!

"If it’s love," she said, "then were gonna have to think about the consequences."  
She can’t stop shaking and I can’t stop touching her and…..  
This time when kindness falls like rain, it washes her away.  
"Anna Begins" - Counting Crows

******

March 2006

 

“You done yet? I need to get outta here by seven.”  


“Not yet. Just sit down, I'll finish up soon.”  


Olivia is set to close that night with Tig, and even though she is fully capable of doing it by herself, Clay tries to make sure she is being looked out for; it's not that he doesn't trust her, it's just his old-school train of thought that said it was his responsibility to make sure his step-daughter was not alone at a place like this at this time of night. Some warped form of chivalry, really. The mechanic left to stay with her rotated every two weeks depending on schedule and whatever business the club had to take care of, and of course it happened to be Tig's turn right in the midst of her very strong anti-Tig mentality, when just getting a whiff of his cologne irritated her to no end.  


Most of the guys are right over at the clubhouse anyway, and the gates at TM always locked right after close, so having the “precautionary measure” (as her mom always put it) made her feel like a child who needed to be kept on a leash at all times instead of being trusted enough to be on her own. She appreciated the fact that everyone was looking out for her and ensuring her safety, but there was a limit to how much she could handle before she felt like the boy in the plastic bubble.  


Tig and Olivia keep to themselves for the most part; she's finishing up some paperwork from the day's repairs, and he's making sure all the tools were put back in their respective places. It's busywork for him, really, because he cleaned up his station hours ago. And he really needed to get over to the clubhouse and away from her, because the strain on their relationship lately has made it almost impossible for him to be around her and not be frustrated, angry. He can't look at her without having a flashback to that day in the hospital, when he saw her with Juice; he still hasn't mentioned it to her, doesn't even know if she knows he saw them, which makes it worse. It makes his blood boil.  


“You done yet?”  


Olivia doesn't even look up at him, just says, “No. You can leave.”  


“You know I can't do that, Ollie.”  


“Jesus, Alex, I'm fine.” She spits. “Gate's closed. Almost all of SAMCRO is just a few hundred feet away. And believe it or not, I know how to properly shoot a gun if for some strange reason someone manages to get past all that, bust in here and attack me. So you can stop with the whole 'I can't leave you alone' thing. It's getting on my last nerve.”  


She continues to sort through papers and try to put them in some semblance of an order, and he's just standing there, just huffing every few seconds like this couldn't possibly be a bigger waste of his time. _You making out with Juice is getting on MY last nerve_ he thinks to himself. Should he even bother confronting her about it, or should he just take it as is, not even bother finding out context? He’s going to be mad either way, so he might as well be mad and kept in the dark about it, than know everything and over-analyze it.  


Tig settles on the couch, propping his feet up and reclining back, he's sure he'll still be here a while. He doesn't really have anywhere important to go (like he had been telling her), he just wants to be away from Olivia. Doesn’t want to see her stupid red hair in its stupid braid. Doesn’t want to smell her stupid perfume. Doesn’t want to see her stupid little mouth as it twists and contorts with every word she puts to paper. The longer he sits here looking at every little thing she does, the angrier he gets, and if he doesn't get out soon he's going to scream.  


“Ask you something?” He says, several invoices later.  


She huffs, and doesn't bother looking up from her paper. “I guess.”  


Should he tiptoe around his wording? Should even be saying this in the first place? Or should he just go ahead and speak, not bothering to curb his disdain for the subject at hand? Either way, this is most definitely going to strike a chord with Olivia; it just depends on how it's going to strike her; that’s what’s tricky. He knows exactly what buttons to push and how, but these days, the reactions he can get out of her all depend on her mood at that point in time. “You and Juice? You still doing.... _whatever_...With him?”  


“What's that supposed to mean?” She snorts.  


“What do you think it means?”  


“I don't know, Alex.” She says. “He's my friend, you know that. I like spending time with him at the garage, and whenever he’s stuck looking out for me. Sometimes we even hang out, just because we can.”  


Tig pretends to fiddle with a loose string on his shirt, trying to keep his tone calm and voice un-accusing so as to not escalate anything. Even though he's dying to yell and scream and make a fuss over what she did to him. “Really? There's nothing else you want to say about that? No particular feeling or event coming to mind…?”  


“What's with you tonight, Alex?” She scoffs. “I think the stick up your ass has a stick up its ass, even more so than usual.”  


“You didn't answer my question. What else is going on with you and Ortiz?”  


“Do you think there's something else going on? Clearly it must be _something_ if you're harping on me so much. Just speak your mind instead of asking these ambiguous questions, I don't have any time to waste.”  


pauses briefly, then laughs bitterly. The anger level is slowly rising as her attitude becomes more flippant. “I know what happened at the hospital, when you were visiting Gem. I saw you two kissing in the hallway. After that morning I stopped by and he was there, I knew there was something up. I knew you were lying to me about it.”  


Olivia tries to keep her facial expressions even and unassuming, but underneath that calm facade, she can feel the heat of impending fright prickling her skin. This attitude he was sporting was nothing new to her, she’d been with him for two whole years and it always happened when she did something or said something he didn't like; most of the time discussions like these ended in a shouting match, or the rare—but not impossible—physical altercation. It was difficult to diffuse the situation once they got into it, and Olivia could already tell from his jerky movements and sharp tone that he was way too involved in this, and she didn't know if she could fend him off. At least this time she wasn't home along with him, and had backup (in the form of five very big guys) if she seriously needed it.  


“My mom was in a car wreck, and I was upset, obviously. Juice was there, and it just...It just happened, it was a friend comforting a friend.” She pushes the paper she was working on aside, and starts on the very last invoice she has to do. “And besides, _how_ is it any of _your_ business? I told you three weeks ago, Alex: we’re done, you had your chance to make things right and you didn’t. And now you can’t have me in any capacity, really.” She pauses. “So, yeah. My friendship with Juice isn’t any of your concern. You can go now.”  


And finally, he moves, he just snatches the papers out of her hand and shoves them in a nearby folder without even acknowledging her, without responding to the last thing she said. It's taking every ounce of his strength right now to not flip the desk over, or throw the filing cabinet down, or something, just taking down something heavy to stop his anger from boiling over to critical level.  


_Olivia Teller, JT’s little girl, SAMCRO’s princess, always being handed things and no one ever telling her no_. He’s sick of bending over backwards to make sure the girl’s always held on a pedestal, always having some kind of superiority over everyone else, just because of what she is. The precious little gem that no one can touch. He’s sick of being pushed around by some ideology that not even she wants put upon her. She thinks she can just do something like this, this thing with Ortiz after all they've been through the past two years? Walk away from that relationship like it wasn't the greatest thing that's happened to her so far?  


“You're done.” He grits out. “I gotta get over to the clubhouse, you gotta get home.”  


“I'm not done, I still have to finish these invoices! I've been working on them for hours, and Gemma will have my ass if they're not filed by morning.”  


It gets incredibly childish then, with Tig holding the papers high above Olivia's tiny frame, and she's jumping for them like a dog jumping for a treat, and it goes on for a minute until she taps his stomach (not too hard, but hard enough to make his arm drop) and the papers fall onto the desk.  


“Go handle your club shit, I'm almost done, I'm fine.”  


Tig rips the papers out of her hands again, and raises his voice to attention-grabbing, yelling volume, “You're done. Let's go.”  


He grabs her wrist (his hand covering the fading bruise from a few weeks ago), and that's it, Olivia knows the struggle will be serious, it always is... Tig starts to walk away with her arm still firmly in his hand, but she stands her ground, yanks herself away from him as hard as she can. It's too late already when he gets to this level of anger, but she has to try doing something to have at least a slim chance of quelling it.  


“Don't you ever grab me like that, Tig. Ever.”  


_Tig._  


She only ever calls him by his nickname when she’s mad, when she’s not playing around with him, when she wants to push his buttons; he knows, because it's been happening a lot recently with the fights and the fact that she was the one who ended things when he didn't want them to be over. Tig grabs her arm again, this time harder, until his knuckles go white and her skin turns an angry pink underneath the pressure. This time though, his vision goes hazy and it almost feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, like he sees the utter fear in her eyes, her struggling to break free from his grasp, but his hand keeps its hold on her and his train of thought is still _stop her, hurt her like she hurt you, don't let go, hurt her, don't let go._  


“Jesus, what are you—”  


“Do you ever know when to just shut your mouth and listen to what other people ask you to do, hmm? Always have to be a little brat, don't you? Princess doesn't get her way, she has to have a fit. Well, that’s not how it’s going to work anymore.” Tig says, eyes cold and unblinking. He looks away from her for a moment, lets out a quick huff of breath and mutters just loud enough for her to hear. “Stupid fucking cunt, don't know when to shut up and listen.”  


Something inside Olivia snaps once he says that to her; he's been manipulative, rude, crude, and downright mean, but never has he called her something so despicable with utter venom in his voice; it shows her that this is the absolute last straw and even though she’s no longer with him, he’ll always have that hold, that sway over her, always be in the back of her mind.  


She's hitting him before she even fully realizes, its instinct when someone (Tig especially, given the recent events) raises their voice to her. Fight or flight, she's always leaning more towards the former when possible. She lands a solid punch to the jaw. A few smacks to the chest. A few deep, defensive scratches on his arm.  


Which turns into him yelling louder to try and show that he's in control, that she should be submissive to him. She's yelling back to show he's not going to take her over. It's mostly incoherent and messy and their voices are garbled trying to go over each other, and they don't even realize the office door is open as they carry on and on.  


It turns into him backhanding her across the face, cutting deep and drawing blood with the SONS ring Clay gave him when he became sergeant at arms. All he sees flashing through his mind are all of the fuck ups that the two of them have had in their relationship, and how he couldn't do anything to stop her from leaving, or stop him from doing something completely stupid, to fix what good thing they had. He's not himself right now, not in his usual state of mind, but he can't stop.  


When Olivia reaches to clutch her cheek, he's going to grab her neck, she doesn't know what's going to happen and she keeps screaming, screaming, hoping it'll stop before it escalates further, and she gets another punch in to his chest to make him stumble back.  


The commotion drew the guys out of the clubhouse, Jax and Chibs in the doorway first and trying to see what's happening from across the lot. Tig's got Olivia against the wall, hands wrapped around her throat, and he's screaming, she's trying to croak out a scream but can’t, and the guys are running to the office. Jax steps in without hesitation and hauls Tig back, stops him before his grip gets any tighter.  


“Jesus Christ, what is this?!”  


Chibs and Opie rush in behind Jax, help him wrestle Tig out of the office and away from  


Olivia who has fallen to the floor in a heap. Jax has Tig’s arms locked behind his head, and he’s still screaming and wrestling and trying to pull away and out of the grip to reach her again, but Jax has the leverage and the muscle strengthened and fueled by his anger, _what the hell was Tig doing to his little sister?_ They’re out of the office now, just beyond the doorway and Chibs is heading after Tig with a fist ready to careen right into his face, but he pauses when he sees the anger melt away from Tig’s expression, his eyes wide and looking past the guys, right at Olivia. He finally sees what he’s done, sees her on the floor slumped over and clutching her cheek and croaking out absolutely broken sobs, and he gives in. He hit her. He choked her. He-- She's--  


_What the hell has he done?_  


He stops struggling against the grip and goes boneless in the VP’s arms, making Jax stumble a bit from the dramatic shift in weight.  


“Stay with her,” Jax says to Opie while he drags Tig off to the clubhouse and into the steely grip of Clay, who's standing in the doorway with his jaw clenched tight. Jax hisses in Tig's ear, “And you...You fucked up big time, Trager.”  


Jax jogs back over to the office to find Olivia still on the floor letting out broken, choking sobs and holding her cheek, with Chibs in the doorway and Opie knelt next to her in complete silence. Neither Jax nor Chibs have ever seen her like this before (Jax has seen her cry plenty of times, but nothing this...nothing this intense) so they're feeling helpless and unsure of what to do. Opie's seen her like this before, of course; she's shown up at his house at two in the morning, black-eyed and shivering and saying Tig had hit her. She went to him the first time it happened, and it was definitely not the last time she sought out Opie for help when Tig'd done something. Olivia hated going to him like that, especially when he'd told her one hundred and one times that she needed to get out of that relationship, but his faithfulness to her, protecting her, was always unwavering no matter what. 

What would've happened tonight, if this broke out when they were at Tig's or Olivia's house? What if no one was there to stop it?  


Chibs slowly crouches next to her, and mutters, “Get in her in the clubhouse. I'll get the med kit and see if she needs patchin' up.”  


The smartass remark is second nature to Jax as an older brother, he wants to say _“Of course she needs patchin' up, have you seen that ugly mug o'hers?”_ but it doesn't come out, it can't, because there's a lump stuck in his throat and he feels like no words would do justice to this situation right now anyway.  


Olivia hasn't said anything, it’s just the echo of her cries and screams slowly dying down in ferocity with each ticking second, and Opie's anger is inversely growing the longer he stands here. “I'm gonna kill him. I'm gonna fucking kill him, and you can vote Mayhem for, I don't give a shit. Trager's dead.”  


“Don't act in haste, brother.” Chibs remarks. “Let's just get her looked at, and maybe she can tell us what happens when she calms down. No killin’ anybody just yet.”  


She barks out what sounds like a laugh, filled with bitter venom, and the three men snap their attention to her. Her hand has finally dropped from her face and they can see her cheek, and sure enough there's a deep cut that's swelling already, blood streaked down the side of her face and covering her hand. Opie reaches out to turn her face up to him so he can get a better look, and then a beat later Jax and Chibs are holding him back as he starts to rush out of the office.  


“Ollie's the priority, Ope.” Chibs says, hand grasped firmly on Opie’s shoulder. “Help get her over to the clubhouse, alright? You help me patch her up.”  


“Its okay, Ope, I'll handle him.” Jax says. “Look after her.”  


He heads off, and Chibs eases the grip he has on Opie. “Can yeh carry her?”  


Opie nods, and gingerly picks Olivia off the floor; her arms instinctively go around his neck and she breathes deep. She's safe now.  


* * * * *

  
Once everyone settles, Clay and Jax lock up in the meeting room of the clubhouse with Tig to get the story first before deciding if it will be handled as a personal matter or if it will reach club decision. Opie manages to carry Olivia over into one of the spare rooms in the clubhouse, Chibs at his heels with a first aid kit. She's managed to stop crying by the time she's settled on the bed, now she's just an exhausted and completely silent presence in front of them.  


“Do you need anything else, Chibs?”  


“Ach, some paper towels. A clean shot glass, and the alcohol in the medicine cabinet over here.” Chibs pulls on a pair of rubber gloves while waiting for Opie to get back. He looks at Olivia and lets out a defeated sigh. “You don't have to tell us anything right now, darlin'. I'm gonna clean you up, then we'll get ya home, alright?”  


She nods, keeping her eyes trained anywhere but his face. The very last thing she wants right now is to have Chibs—have anyone, really—look at her with a _we saw this coming and you didn't listen_ expression, or some kind of look of pity. She knows she got in too deep with Tig, and everyone said they were bad for each other, but she was too stubborn and too in love to really listen. And what Tig did...trying to understand why he did it? She has absolutely zero patience for that right now, and the immediate foreseeable future.  


Opie returns with the items Chibs asks for, and he hovers for a moment, like he's deciding whether to sit or stand or leave altogether. His mind is made up for him, with Jax coming around a few moments later, beckoning him to the meeting room with him and Clay.  


Jax barely gives a second look to his little sister, but still manages to say, “Take care of her, Chibs. Get her home safe.”  


“Aye, brother.” Chibs waits until Jax is gone, then mutters under his breath, “Even though that's more of a brotherly job to do.”  


Out in the hallway, Jax is looking agitated and rubbing his eyes hard like he’s getting the bitter craving of sleep out of them. “Ope, can you do me a favor? Can you look out for her? Me and Clay gotta sit and sort this shit out with Tig first, see if it needs to reach club.” He pauses and looks up at Opie, who's seemingly not paying attention. “Ope? You listenin', brother?”  


“I can't do it, Jax. I can't stay here.”  


“What the hell do you mean?”  


Opie lets out a frustrated sigh and scrubs a hand over his face. “If I stay here, if I see--” He bites off mid-sentence. “If I see his face, I'm gonna do somethin’ real bad. I can't be near him right now, I can't.”  


“But what about Ollie? Don't she matter more than that?”  


He doesn't seem to hear that last bit, because he's stomping off and heading right out of the clubhouse without looking back, without acknowledging Jax calling his name again and again.  


All Opie can think of right now is smashing Tig's face into the pavement until there's a pool of blood underneath him and you can't recognize his face anymore, because _Jesus Christ_ what did he do to Olivia? Their fights have been going on for some time, everyone knows that, and Opie's been facing the brunt of her emotions regarding those situations, with countless nights spent holding her as she cried herself to sleep, trying to convince her that she's better off without him (but of course, she never listened). He's doctored a few black eyes, a split lip, and he's had to listen to her constant mantra of “it’s okay, I'm okay, don't worry” echoing in his ears every time after it's done.  


He was supposed to protect her, and he didn't.  


There's really no clear destination in mind as his bike roars to life and he peels out of the lot and into the street. Maybe just driving aimlessly would be his best bet for now, try to let his temper settle down before he does something stupid.


	2. Wonder Where These Dreams Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia's 16th birthday, and the aftermath of the attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have our first flashback here, as well as continuing the present story; don't worry, they're clearly labeled!  
> Just as a warning, this chapter has a mention of rape, but nothing shown!  
> * * * * *

They press their lips against you, and you love the lies they say  
And I tried so hard to reach you,  
but you're falling anyway.  
Acoustic #3 - Goo Goo Dolls

* * *  


**August 2000**

“Ollie baby, can you finish cutting these while I go get the door?”

“Why can’t I just get the door?”

Gemma sighs hard, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Can’t have you answering the door at your own damn party.”

She stomps off to the answer it by the third ring of the bell, leaving Olivia alone in the kitchen, mocking her mother’s tone and making stupid faces as she finishes slicing the carrots to go into the coleslaw. 

Most of her birthdays end up being quite crowded with Sons and crow eaters, but since it's her 16 th, even members of other charters have shown up and filled up both the house and the backyard; honestly, Olivia doesn't recognize a lot of them, but they all hand her gifts so she can't complain _too_ much about them being here. Birthdays also tend to be a little weird for her, since she no longer shares it with her twin. She's fine most of the time, but normally once all the guests leave and she's alone in her room, she curls up in her bed and just lies in the dark for a while, sometimes crying, sometimes just reminiscing over the past. Birthdays also leave her big brother and her mother in odd emotional places; sometimes they're over-nice to her, like they're trying to make her feel better or something, and other times they're just a bit distant, like they know this party is missing someone, it isn't complete. So far this year it seems like they're both relatively level-headed with no behavior out of the ordinary, and she hopes it stays that way.

Gemma finally returns with Chibs and Bobby in tow, both of them carrying obnoxiously large packages that nearly hide their faces, but when she hears the familiar Scottish brogue and the deep rumble of laughter she knows exactly who it is.

“Ollie girl, happy birthday! Got a mound of other gifts we can dump these on?”

“Yeah, I'll show you the way,” Gemma smiles at them, and walks through the kitchen over to the living room. She puts a loving hand against her daughter's face as she passes, followed by Bobby right behind her giving Olivia a hair tousle, then Chibs who gives her a smacking kiss on the cheek. 

Olivia doesn't have a moment to herself, with more people arriving at the party, some people beckoning her outside, people trying to get her attention this way and that, Gemma trying to get her help with setting things up--

It's a lot for her to handle. She’s not that great in crowds and situations like this, it almost verges on slight panic attacks (that’s just her timid nature, and pretty much the complete opposite of her mother’s personality type) until she manages to step away for a moment and _breathe._ Some of the guys want to reminicse about something cute she did when she was seven. Some crow eaters want to give her “friendly advice” about growing up and getting ready to start dating. And her brother won't stop harping on her and telling embarrassing stories.Olivia eventually finds Opie out by the keg, and with just one glance, he knows, he knows she needs his help; he manages to ward people off and sneak her back inside past Gemma, to her room where she can diffuse for a moment.

“God, I know everyone cares about me and wants to talk to me, but sometimes they just don’t know when to leave a girl alone.” Olivia sighs as she shuts the door. “How long do you think it’ll take until Gemma runs around looking for me?”

“Eh, five minutes give or take.”

She flops down on her bed, right on her belly, and a moment later there’s the familiar shift and sink at the foot of the mattress as Opie takes a seat.

“Sixteen. Huh.” He says. “You’re getting old, Teller.”

“Says the boy who just turned 22\. That’s even older. You’re an old man already, Winston.”

“That’s true. Might as well start signing the papers to get me in a nursin’ home.” He turns around and grabs at her feet to tickle them. “I guess I’ll have to start likin’ apple sauce ‘cause that’s all I’ll be eatin’.”

She’s a giggling flailing mess in no time, with Opie trying to get her feet, then her tummy and her sides when he can reach them. 

It’s easy for them to fall into this, just fall into silly and carefree moments without hesitation because as Olivia puts it, _“we’re always on the same wavelength, always know what the other’s thinking. I kinda think we're soulmates, Ope.”_ They're close, always have been. Their relationship just.......it _is._ No one can describe it really, not even Opie and Olivia themselves, but anyone who knows them just how entwined they are, just how strong their bond is. 

“Okay, Uncle! Uncle! Quit it, Opie!”

He relents finally, and she’s a flushed mess trying to get her breathing back to normal. 

She’s older now, looks older and acts older, but when he really looks at her she’s still the same Olivia to him: the little spitfire who won't take 'no' for an answer; the girl who still cries every time she watches Mulan; the girl who can eat 30 fun sized Snickers in one sitting and not get sick. He truly hopes that never changes. 

“Feelin’ better?” Opie get up from the bed and sticks his hand out for her to grab. “Think you can head back out before your mom comes and yells at me for hoggin’ you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” She smiles. “Just be a buffer for me, big guy. Can’t talk to everyone at once.”

Olivia's out trying to mingle with as many people as possible, and Opie eventually lets her drift off on her own once he sees she has the hang of it. Gemma's left him more or less in charge of keeping an eye on the alcohol, making sure there's enough and everybody has what they want. He's standing by the keg just idling, until there's a hand clapping his shoulder.

“What's goin' on, brother?” Tig says. “Sorry I'm late.”

“No big deal, man. Party's kinda 'come and go' as you please.”

“Alright, alright. Where's the birthday girl?”

Opie nods over to the other side of the backyard, where she's talking to Chibs, Jax and Tara. 

“Holy shit,” Tig mumbles. “Are you _seeing_ this?”

“Seeing _what_?” Opie scrunches his brows, because _what the hell is Tig talking about_?

“Olivia, you idiot.”

He looks at her, and it's the exact same Olivia he saw about ten minutes ago in her room; she's not doing anything out of the ordinary, she hasn't sprouted any new limbs or grown a second head, so what is Tig so shocked by?

“Yeah, and? There's nothing different about her.” 

Tig looks at him with utter disbelief, and shakes his head. “You must have some sort of blinders on brother, because you ain't seeing what I'm seeing.” He points a finger in her direction a little, and puts an arm around Opie to bring him in closer so he doesn't have to speak so loud. “The shirt? Those shorts? Are you not seeing how tight her body looks?”

Her outfit isn't really anything out of the ordinary: cut-off denim shorts that settle a few inches below her ass, an old cut up Journey shirt that bares a whole lot of midriff, and beat up Chucks. Opie's seen her wear this outfit and ones just like it all the time, especially during the summer when it's sweltering and muggy outside, and he just doesn't get what Tig's reaching for.

“Her ass in those Daisy Dukes, though. Jesus.” 

It's then that Opie realizes what Tig is going after, and he jumps away from him like an electric current had shocked him.

“What?” Tig asks, mildly concerned.

“Jesus, Tig.” Opie hisses. “She's _sixteen_.”

“And? Just a little harmless ogling. You mean to tell me you haven't noticed how much she's filled out recently? You need some glasses or somethin', brother?”

Opie hadn't noticed, not really; in a way, of course he saw how different she looked, how much her body had changed in the last few years, but he never thought of her as anything other than regular 'ole Olivia. But now that Tig's pointed it out, emphasized it so much in his (kinda) creepy way, Opie feels a treacherous heat prickling the back of his neck, which doesn't go away as he sees Olivia across the yard laughing and dancing a little with Tara as a new song tumbles out of the speakers and over the crowd. The way her hips move to the beat. The way the jeans hug her curves. The small flashes of blue lace that he catches a peek of as her shirt blows up a little with the breeze.

“Holy shit,” he lets out a strangled whisper, and he feels dizzy, he can't _breathe_ and all he hears is his heartbeat in his throat and Tig's wicked laughter right by his ear. Olivia. Little Olivia. His best friend, practically sister. It's like his _she's just a kid_ glasses have been ripped off his eyes and now all he can see is this _woman_ before him instead of the scabby kneed and wide eyed little girl he's know nearly his entire life.

“That shirt she's wearing? Used to be mine.” Tig smirks. “She took it from me a few years back, and I gotta say she deserves to keep it if she's making it look like that.”

“ _Sixteen_ ,” Opie hisses again. “Stop fuckin' lookin' at her like that, Trager.”

“Looking is fine, Ope. Touching isn't. For two more years at least.” He snorts a laugh and shoves Opie a little, then wanders off across the yard to talk to her. And Opie's left standing there still a bit in shock, still feeling a hot swirl of _something_ in the pit of his belly that he wants to go away right the fuck now, but it won't. 

A wide smile spreads across her face as Tig approaches, and she throws her arms around the back of his neck and he lifts her in a spinning hug; Opie's fists clench tight as he sees Tig do his usual routine with her, except this time it’s completely void of innocence. His scouring blue eyes don't seem to make Olivia think anything otherwise, because she's her usual self, laughing and smiling and touching his arm when she talks to him. Opie wants to punch him. 

“Hey Ope, you—bro, you okay?”

He almost doesn't notice Jax at first, because now it's just Tig and Olivia, she's leaning against the big oak tree and he's got his forearm pressed to the space above her head, and he's leaning in just a little too close for Ope's liking. 

“You noticin' how Tig's actin' around Ollie?” Opie jerks his head in their direction. “He doin' this a lot lately?”

Jax shakes his head. “Didn't notice before. Don't think so.” He pauses to assess what he can see from here, then continues, “You think somethin's up?”

“I think he's tryin' somethin' he shouldn't.”

“Keep an eye on her, man. Make sure Trager ain’t doing his usual shit he does with crow eaters.” Jax pats his shoulder, then walks off when he hears Tara calling for him. “Thanks, Ope!”

“Looking out for _your_ sister should be _your_ job.” Opie mutters. 

Tig's not relenting on his position, just hovering over and completely crowding Olivia. He wouldn't think twice about Tig having ulterior motives if he saw this happening at any other time with any other woman, but when he'd just been commenting on Olivia's looks in _that_ tone, with _that_ look in his eye? Yeah, Opie's concerned. Last thing that girl needs is SAMCRO's most notorious bed hopper looking at her like she's a piece of meat.

He decides to put a stop to it before Tig gets any more involved, leaving the keg unattended for a moment as he crosses the yard in a few long strides to reach the two of them.

“Oll?” 

She peeks her head out around Tig and gives Opie a smile, the one that makes the dimple appear in her chin, and it looks different to him than it usually does; it's not so cute and endearing so much as it is.... _stunning._ Fuck. Tig's gotten into his head. 

“Yeah Ope?”

He shakes the thought out of his mind and sticks his hand out for her to take. “Need some help inside, c'mon.”

“Okay.” She entwines her fingers with his, and gives Tig another smile. “Catch you later, Alex.”

“Catch you later, sweetheart.”

Opie completely ignores the little wink Tig throws in at the end of his farewell, and quickly tries to haul Olivia back over to the house. She's bopping along and trying to keep up with Ope as they walk further away from Tig, and she seemingly has no idea that he'd been extra attentive to her today; Opie doesn't want to bring it up now, but he will soon enough, especially if Tig keeps up the talk. 

“What's up, Winston? What do you need help with?”

Shit, he didn't think of that. He just said what came to mind first, something that would get her away and keep her occupied. “Umm, plates and forks and shit. Putting them out, 'cause Gem said food's about ready.”

“Alright.” She pauses a moment. “You alright? Your face is all red. I told you to wear sunscreen, you never listen to me.”

“Fine, 'm fine. Just...hot.” He swallows hard. “Stop being a know-it-all, Teller. It ain't cute.”

“Hey, it's my birthday. Be nice to me you buttface.”

~ ~ ~

It’s later, everyone’s dissipated, Jax ran off somewhere with Tara, Clay and Gemma went off to bed, so it was just Opie and Olivia on the couch watching some rom-com that she’s seen hundreds of times, but he sits there without complaint.

“You have a good day, birthday girl?”

“Mhmm.” Olivia smiles. “Really good. Food was great, it was really nice seeing everyone. And I didn’t get to finish opening my presents, but what I got so far is pretty cool.”

“Yeah? How’d you clean up?”

She jumps up from her seat and goes to the other couch where her mound of presents is, and picks out a few bags to spread on the coffee table in front of them. 

“Decent amount of cash. Some… _adult_ things from a few crow eaters that are going to be shoved into the back of my drawer for the time being.” She chuckles. “Didn’t open Tara’s or Jax’s yet—”

“Or mine.”

“Or yours. Saved the best for last.”

“Saying mine’s the best? Settin’ the bar awful high.”

“Well you have yet to break your ‘best gift of the day’ streak for the last five years, so I have confidence in you.” She grabs a neon pink and glittery bag (if there’s one thing Olivia hates, it’s things that are pink and glittery, so whoever gave her this gift either doesn’t know her at all, or has a sense of humor). “Here, look what Tig got me.” Olivia dumps the bag over onto the table, and a bunch of band shirts tumbled out. “Half of them are vintage, they were his from back in the day, and a few are new. Aren’t they cool?”

Tig's comment about her wearing his old shirt echoes in Opie's mind and he shudders, wanting to say something, but there's a glint of happiness in her eyes as she looks through the shirts. It means a lot to her, he can see that, so he bites his tongue and doesn't mention anything.

“Whaddaya got? Anything I can steal?”

“You're not _stealing_ anything from me, Winston. Keep your grubby hands to yourself.” She tosses a few aside and eventually comes up with a CCR shirt, brand new, and she holds it up to him with a little _hmmph_. “That should fit, I think. Here you go.”

“Oll, I'm not taking your gift--”

“Happy early birthday!” She throws the shirt at his face. “Your other one is falling apart. And besides you're not _taking_ it, I'm _giving_ it to you. What's mine is yours. For the most part anyways. I don't think my jeans would fit you.”

He huffs a little laugh, and looks up at her with a warm smile. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Olivia shoves all the shirts back in the bag, then offers him a smirk. “So where's this gift you've been yapping about, hmm?”

“Hid it somewhere you wouldn't find it since you go snoopin' through my shit every time you're at my house.”

“I don't snoop!”  
“Yeah you do, Ollie, don't kid yourself.” Opie pushes himself to his feet and goes right for the kitchen, where Gemma keeps her stash of home and garden magazines (a guilty pleasure); he sifts through it until he comes out with the grey box he'd been looking for, then returns to his seat next to Olivia on the couch. “I know you don't really like jewelry that much, but...you wear it sometimes. This can be for that _sometimes_ , I guess.” 

He hands her the box, and she's already glossy-eyed and has a watery smile before she's even opened it. When she does, it reveals a silver pendant, a peridot in the middle with diamonds twisted all around it; it's their birthstones, because of course Opie has to get all sentimental and shit, but in his subtle and quiet Opie-ish ways. It's small and simple, but stunning.

She lets out a hushed “Ope...” 

“Don't say 'you didn't have to go spendin' that much money on me' because it really wasn't a big deal.” He says. “You deserve it for puttin' up with all my shit over the years.”

Olivia doesn't say anything else, she just throws herself against him and wraps her arms around his neck. He returns the hug with fervor automatically, and they just stay like that until he hears a small hiccup in his ear.

“You cryin', Teller?” He chuckles. “You don't gotta cry, sweetheart.”

“Shut up. 'M not crying.” She mumbles.

Olivia pulls away and sure enough, she has watery eyes and a few tears streaked down her cheeks, which are quickly thumbed away by Opie.

“Want me to put it on?”

“Sure your sausage fingers can get this tiny clasp?”

“I'mma take this back if you keep up the sass.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

She shifts a bit so her back is to him and sweeps her hair off her neck. He hesitates a moment. There’s two distinct clusters of freckles on her neck, just under her hairline, that he never noticed before; and he’s frozen as he contemplates them. The skin is pale and soft and he wonders how it would feel if he…

No. Cut that train of thought right off.

The necklace is around her throat and he’s trying to adjust the clasp just right in his fingers so he can get it open, but he’s struggling. She was right about his sausage fingers, but it’s more like—he’s leaning in just close enough that he can smell her hair, her sweet coconut shampoo and charcoal lingering from the barbecue, and underneath it all a hint of her own clean and earthy and _Olivia_ smell.

He frowns and finally gets the clasp done, then straightens and gives her an awkward pat on the shoulder. “There,” he says. “Told you.”

Olivia turns to face him with the pendant held in her fingers, and her smile is luminous and warm. Before he can even do anything she’s pulling him in for a kiss, just an easy, friendly kiss like they’ve shared hundreds of  times, but now, for Opie, everything’s  _different_.

Her lips are soft and lush, and she makes a tiny little noise, probably without even realizing it, and tilts her head to get better leverage and deepen the kiss. Her lower lip slots between his; her palm is flat against his shoulder before she curls it into a fist, taking a handful of his shirt with it. He clenches a couch cushion in his fingers so he doesn’t touch her he can’t touch her if he touches her—

She doesn’t pull away. Why hasn’t she pulled away? She just keeps kissing him, not quite chaste and not quite passionate, but some precarious path in between that has his brain turning to static and his libido urging him to go forward despite his need to stop it. The flavor of orange soda lingers on her mouth, sweet and sticky, and he wants to suck the taste of it off her lips.

He lifts a hand, whether to push her away or tangle in her hair to pull her tighter against him he’ll never know, because at that moment she  _does_  break it. She grins at him and her nose scrunches.

"You taste like barbecue sauce," she says. She drops another kiss on the end of his nose, a quick peck, and sits back. “Thanks Opie, really. For the necklace? You didn’t have to do something like that.”

She adjusts herself and curls up against his side, an arm thrown across his stomach and the other padding around to look for the remote. “Stay for a bit and finish watching this movie with me?”

He shifts until he’s more comfortable, until she’s not pressing into him  _quite_  as completely, and somehow manages a coherent thought. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I’ll stay a bit.”

_Stay cool, Winston. She’s just a kid. Sixteen. Practically your sister._  He glances down at her and she’s giving him a curious look.

"You okay?"

"Mhmm. Just start the movie, Teller.”

  


  


  


  


~ ~ ~ 

**March 2006**

They're sitting in silence for a while, Jax buzzing with anger, Clay's hands just barely shaking as he tries to light a cigar, and Tig looking white as a ghost, completely unmoving. 

_He hit Olivia_. Jesus Christ, he hit her, he screamed at her, he _choked_ her; everyone knows that he talks the talk about hitting women to get them to shut up, but he never really walks the walk. It’s more of an intimidation tactic so he can get information he wants without making anyone bleed. But this time, it got away from him. The tendency of making it physical when it came to getting revenge really got the best of him, and of course as fate would have it, the one he didn’t want to actually hit ending up being the punching bag. Tig’s hit her before, he knows and she knows and everyone knows, but he’s never treated her like any other MC thug he’d come across in all his years, he never wanted to cause this much damage. 

His Olivia. His sweet, loving, Olivia. The best thing that ever happened to him (not that he’d admit it out loud) and he took her for granted; she could’ve been with any guy she wanted, and she picked him out of the crowd like a shining beacon of light, like _that’s the one I’m meant to be with_.

And he destroyed her.

He did something she’ll never forget, something he’ll never forgive himself for, and something that may cause him to lose his patch, the one thing he cares about most of all. 

  


Eventually, Tig’s snapped out of his train of thought, with Clay clearing his throat and trying to gather his sentiments before he speaks.

“We need to sort this shit out right now,” he says slowly, deliberately. “You wanna tell me why you hit that little girl, hmm? You got a reason or are you just absolutely fucking _retarded_.” 

Tig stays silent.

Clay continues, "You just go around hitting your girl all willy-nilly? Hitting my _kid_ like it’s nothing?"

He still doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, and Clay and Jax are getting angrier with each moment of silence, just looking for the quiet signal to act on their rage. 

Jax is getting riled, not being able to sit still in his chair because he wants to leap across the table and shake Tig, hit him, _something_ , get him to say why he did it so they can process it and take action. “Just gonna sit there and not say anythin’, asshole? Hmm?” He rises from his chair and quickly steps over to the space between the President and Sergeant seats.  “You gonna tell us why you hit my baby sister before I fucking rip your throat out?”

“She fuckin’ deserved it.” Tig says, automatically almost, without putting up any kind of filters between what he’s really feeling and what he needs to say to get these two off his case. It hits him the second the last word leaves his mouth, that he shouldn’t have said that, he shouldn’t have—

Jax hauls him up by his kutte and slams him against the wall, forearm pressed tight to his throat and his face—gone completely red with rage—is mere inches from Tig’s. There are small choking and gasping noises coming from Tig as his windpipe is constricted, and Jax’s voice is a furious whisper. “Don't. You. _Dare._ Say that, Alex Trager. Or you're _done_. Not a trace left of your existence." He presses his arm even harder, but Clay intervenes before Jax really does kill him. Jax steps off with a frustrated groan and two shaky hands pushing his hair back from his face; Clay stays in front of Tig, who’s coughing hard and double over, just to further echo the threat.

“If you ever, _ever_ , so much as wave hello to that girl again,” Clay grits out, “There will not be a single cell left o’you. Understand?” He grabs Tig by the shoulders and knocks him into the wall again, then brings him back down into his seat. “You’re gonna tell us what happened, right now. Go.”

Tig reluctantly got to his side of what happened once his breathing returned to normal; he left out _a lot_ of stuff about their fights and the sleeping around and all the little shit that happened over the last few months, but gave them the gist of the story. The fact that he thought Olivia was cheating on him (with Juice, even though he did it to her all the time with crow eaters without hesitation); that she withheld a lot of information/secrets from him (again, two sides of the same coin); and the honest fact that he really let his anger build up to an unacceptable level. 

He tried to be his usual cocky self, keep up the façade that he doesn’t really care about anyone else but himself and that a big guy like him can’t be hurt or can’t get emotional, but in the end he let the mask slip just for a brief moment, with just a tiny waver in his voice as he apologized. They're never going to look at him or treat him the same way again, he knows that in his heart, but at least they can settle on not killing him for it. Hopefully.

“Alright,” Clay huffs when all's said and done. He's spinning the gavel around and around in his fingers, and gives a brief glimpse and nod to Jax. “Get the girl out of here, get her home. Then we're meeting as soon as the guys get back from the lookout. This gets handled tonight.”

~ ~ ~ 

Juice, Bobby and Happy were out securing a spot for the meeting with the One-Niners for the next day, so they had missed all the commotion; when they got back to the clubhouse it was just Piney sitting at the bar with a bottle of tequila in front of him, and the doors to the chapel shut. 

"Somethin' goin' on? Why're the doors shut?" Bobby asks.

“Some shit went down with Tig and Olivia." Piney huffs, pouring himself a shot of tequila and gesturing the bottle to the guys. "Not a pretty site at all. Prez and VP got 'im in the chapel right now. Chibs is in the apartment with the girl right now, and Ope took off somewhere."

“Shit.” Happy sighs. He scrubs both hands down his face and looks over at Bobby, who's just as much in disbelief, but it doesn't seem to surprise them all that much.

Juice on the other hand feels like he's been punched hard right in the chest. He knew it would all come to a head at some point, that eventually, all the shit Tig's put her through would end horribly.... “Do you know exactly what went down?” He asks, voice breaking on nearly every word.

Piney shakes his head. “Just saw the aftermath. Clay and Jax are talking to him first, then they're bringin' the rest of us in, see if it reaches club or not.”

There's a silence that streches before them, none of them really knowing what to say afterwards. They don't know what happened. They didn't see anything, so really, what else could they do for now? Finally the door swings open and all of the guys' attention goes right to Jax, who looks utterly defeated. “Meeting right now, all of us. Chibs still with her?” 

“Yeah.” Piney says.

“Ope come back?”

“No.”

Jax lets out a harsh sigh and gestures for all of them to head into the room. “Just give me a second to check in with Ollie and Chibs. I'll be right back.”

~ ~ ~

“Sure ya don’t want Ope with you instead o'me?”

She shakes her head.

“Alright, well. You're all done sweetheart. I'll take you home then, yeah?”

Just as Olivia gets ready to stand up, there's a small knock at the door, and Jax pushes himself inside. The grim set of his mouth slips just a little when he sees her, eyes red and puffy and tinged a little purple, the butterfly bandages covering a nasty slash across her pale cheek, but he pulls the mask back on for her sake. She doesn't need to feel like she's being pitited.   

“You okay?”

She looks at him like the answer to that question is so painfully obvious, he didn't even need to ask it, but she shrugs her shoulders a little anyway. 

Jax nods his head at Chibs to call him over, to speak quietly without her hearing. “Ope's split. Don't know where he went.” He sighs hard. “Can you get her home, look out for her for a bit? We gotta go see what to do about this.”

“Aye, I can do that. Let me know what's going on when it's all said and done.”

“Sure thing.” Jax taps his arm and nods, then gingerly steps over to Olivia. He wants to cup her face or give her a hug or something that can reassure her that he's here for her, but he's not sure if she's up for the physical contact. He settles on doing nothing, just saying, “Chibs is gonna stay with you for a bit, make sure you're alright. Okay?”

She nods slowly, doesn't make eye contact with him, she can't. She may not be that close with her brother, but she knows that he really truly cares about her even if he's not straightforward about it. The only hitch is how she stacks up against SAMCRO; when it all boils down, she knows that he'll always pick the club over her. Olivia is afraid that it'll happen now, it'll happen when she needs him on her side the most, and that really honestly _frightens_ her. That'll Jax will take Tig's side over hers; he'll keep being buddy-buddy with him and move on like it never happened It makes her sick. 

“Keep in touch,” Jax says to Chibs on his way out the door. Then he calls back over his shoulder, “We'll make this right, Olivia.” And he's gone again.

Chibs sighs and holds a hand out for her to take. He notices the wrinkle in between her brows, the frown set to her mouth, and he swings her arm a little to get her to look up at him.“He loves you girl, don't fret.” 

She doesn't say anything back, just gives a weak nod and entwines her fingers with his before they leave the room. It's quiet when they get out to the main room of the clubhouse, the doors to the chapel shut as they pass; _thank God_ , she thinks, because she can't bear to see anyone else right now. Juice flashes quickly across her mind, picturing what he'd say and how he'd look at her, but she shakes it off quickly before a new bout of tears start again. 

They get out to the lot, and Chibs wavers a bit before he comes to a complete halt. “My bike okay, or you want somethin' more stable?”

Olivia lets go of his hand and silently heads for his bike, because right now she really just needs to feel the sharp sting of the night air hitting her face, to keep her mind off what happened, she needs the adrenaline to know that she's still standing. They mount up on the bike and Chibs triple checks to make sure her helmet's on secure and that her arms are tight around him before they head out, riding into the chill of the night. 

~ ~ ~ 

“You fuckin' kiddin' me?” Bobby's bitter laugh echoes in the still room. “You'd think she trashed your bike or killed your dog or some shit. What's the matter with you, Tig?”

All of the guys are tense and in various stages of anger, with Tig slouched low in his chair, not really looking at anybody after he finished telling them what happened, and Jax told them how bad she looked. They're all outraged, of course, because this is Olivia, this is the little girl they've been looking out for for so long, and Tig's tossed her off like she's some worthless slab of meat. In all honesty, if it was a crow eater or some random chick that he hooked up with, this wouldn't even be discussed in front of the club, but with family, with _blood_ on the line, they don't know how to handle this.

“Okay, let's just—” Jax bites off mid-sentence, pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Let's just see if this'll be handled personally or by vote, okay?”

“How about we just beat the shit out of Tig, see how he likes it?” Happy says.

Juice adds, “Yeah, that seems awful fair to me. You get a taste of your own medicine, you asshole.”

Tig's eyes snap to attention at the sound of Juice's voice, and he pulls himself up straight. “You think you got a say in this Ortiz, hmm? When this is your fuckin' fault it happened in the first place?”

“ _MY_ fault?” 

“Yeah. _Your_ fault, shithead. Messin' with _my_ girl when I told you to step off...” 

Deep down, he knows that it wasn't Juice's fault, he just happened to be the catalyst for the quick downfall of Tig's and Olivia's relationship, but while he's sitting here in front of his brothers he feels the need to deflect, to not look like he's been pussy-whipped; he needs to keep up the cocky attitude lest he wants to be looked down upon even further. 

Juice abruptly stands, feels the anger prickling the back of his neck and catching in his chest, “ _Your_ girl? Jesus Christ, Trager, she's a human being! She's not _yours_ you don't _own_ her. You lost all say in her life when you fucking raped her.”

The silence is sharp and deafening as it strikes the room. It's like all of the air had been sucked out of it in one second, with all of the guys' attention snapped immediately to Juice.

Tig's still, he feels like he's been smacked in the mouth, he's spluttering a bit as he tries to say something back to Juice before it remains quiet for too long. “What did you just say to me?”

“Oh, you heard me loud and clear.”

“I didn't fuckin' do anything to her, I just—she just...we were—It got a little rough _one time_ , but she was just playin'—”

“She showed up at my place crying and covered in bruises. That don't seem like 'just playing' to me!”

“What the fuck was she doin' at _your_ place anway, Ortiz?”

“Maybe she was scared of her boyfriend rapin' her, and she was too afraid to go home and be alone! Don't you _dare_ try to turn this around, Tig, this is about what _you_ did to her, not what I did to try and make her feel safe.”

“Wait a god damn second,” Clay interjects. “What are you two even talking about?”

Juice snaps his eyes over to meet Clay's gaze, and lets out a quick breath before telling them what happened that night; he leaves out a majority of the details, only divulging information about the bruises covering her body, how hard she cried, and how utterly devastated she felt. Not what happened the rest of that night. 

Another silence falls after Juice speaks, as he and everyone else turns their attention back to Tig.

“Things got a bit rough and she had a hissy fit,” he says defensively. “That's it. She mighta said 'stop,' or whatever, but she pulls that shit all the time, it's nothing new.”

Jax is up out of his seat like a flash, and he's yelling “You piece of shit motherfucker,” as he storms over and socks Tig right in the mouth. It escalates fast, Jax hitting Tig and Clay trying to pull him off, with all the other guys up and yelling over each other, it's all messy and incoherent, until there's a loud boom that shocks them out of it. Piney had thrown his chair back against the floor, and he's looming over the scene as everyone goes still and quiet.

“Enough.” Piney says. “No more blame game, no more discussing what happened to the girl tonight or in the past. You sort this out on your own time, this ain't our business.”

Juice tries to interject, “But—” 

“What happened to her is horrible, but we're not losing a brother over it.” Piney states. “Deal with this away from the table, this ain't a club issue.”

He leaves the room then, and the rest of the club lets out baited breaths. Jax releases his grip on Tig's kutte and stands up to shake himself off. He heads out of the room without another word, and Clay looks over at all of his guys. He looks like he's going to say something, but instead he shakes his head, and waves his hand to tell them to go. They disperse, and it's just him and Tig, who's still on the floor.

“We are not done, here.” Clay grits out. “Go clean yourself up and get out of here. This discussion continues tomorrow.”


	3. Time and Time Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia goes home, and Opie's nowhere to be found

So when are you coming home, sweet angel?  
You leaving me alone, all alone....

I'm gonna set fire to this city  
And out in the desert, yeah, we're gonna ride 

Time and Time Again - Counting Crows

* * * 

**March 2006**

 

****

Olivia’s still completely silent by the time she and Chibs get home; at this point, he doesn’t count on her saying anything tonight or maybe even tomorrow. That’s just how she gets: stubborn and contemplative and she makes sure all of her thoughts are in order before she speaks her mind. 

           “Why don’t you get cleaned up and get in bed?” He says. “Get settled and I’ll bring you some tea, sounds good?”

           She nods and manages to drag herself down the hallway to her room.

           Chibs makes chamomile for her, and ensures the bottle of sleeping pills he swiped from the clubhouse is still in his pocket; he'd figured she'd need them, to try and calm her surely restless mind down enough so she can recuperate. It hurts him to see her like this, it really does. When he looks at her, he still sees the little girl who befriended him almost immediately the first time he showed up in Charming. She was enamored with his accent and the fact that he'd sit and listen to her rambling little stories when no one else would; the way she acted reminded of his Kerrianne, and it helped him settle in at SAMCRO faster than he'd expected. 

           When he drops off the mug and bids her goodnight, she's sitting up with her back against the headboard, knees drawn up to her chests and arms wrapped around her legs. For the first time all night, she speaks: a quiet “please stay,” that makes him freeze immediately.   

           He almost wants to say _I really can't_ but her eyes are wide and bloodshot and expectant, and he just can't do it; there is also the temptation to ask her if she wants someone else instead of him, but he decides on biting his tongue.

           “Yeah, alright.” Chibs sighs. He carefully perches on the edge of the bed, pulls the bottle out and rattles it a bit as he extends his hand to her. “Thought you might want these. Get some much needed rest.”

           She contemplates it for a moment, then eventually settles on nodding and holding her hand out for them. He pops two out into her hand, and picks the mug of tea to pass to her as well. When Olivia's got them down and she settles back, there's a weak smile on her lips.

           “Thanks, Chibs.”

           He nods and slowly gets up from the bed. “You get some rest, sweetheart. I'll be out on the couch if you need anythin'.”

           Chibs goes to check on her every twenty minutes or so, but she's already asleep by the first time he looks. He picks at the stack of magazines and books she has strewn about the coffee table, just anxiously passing the time and trying to stay awake. 

           It's midnight. He puts the magazines down and checks on her yet again, but this time when he walks down the hallway back to the living room, a photo catches his eye.

           Jax, Olivia and Opie when they were younger: huge grins, ice cream smeared all over their faces, and arms slung around each other’s' shoulders. It makes him think of how they are now, with Opie acting more like a brother to her than Jax ever did. It also makes him think back to earlier this night, how quiet and furious Opie was with what happened, and how he vanished without a word. He should be here right now.

           Chibs calls Opie when he gets back to the living room, keeping his voice hushed as it rings once, then immediately cuts to the voicemail message.

           “I dunno what you think you’re doing, brother. But you need to quit fuckin’ around and get your arse back here.” He sighs briskly. “I think she needs you more'n anyone else.”

 

           The rumble of a motorcycle echoes loudly outside, slowly getting louder as it grows nearer to the house, and Chibs hustles down the hallway quickly to see if Olivia's still sleeping (which she is, like a rock). He runs back to the door to take a quick peek out the window, see if it's Opie, which he really hopes. But it's Happy.

 

           “Jax told me to come over and relieve you.” Happy says when Chibs opens the door for him. He pauses a moment, tries to look past him and into the house. “She okay?”

           “Gave her somethin’ to help her sleep. She’s alright for now.” Chibs steps back to let him in the house, then pauses after he closes the door. “Anyone hear from Ope?”

           Happy shakes his head, “Nah. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

           He sighs and nods, and pats Happy's shoulder. “Alright. Just keep an eye on her. I'll talk to you in the morning.”

~ ~ ~

It’s after midnight, and when he gets off his bike to walk around a bit, he sees the notification of a voicemail on his phone. Chibs. Saying how badly Olivia needs him. How much he’s fucking up by not being there for her when she needs him the most.

He chucks his phone and a moment later he hears the crack of it hitting the ground off in the distance.

He runs his hands through his hair hard, tugs on the ends, and _screams_ into the empty night sky. That’s all he can do right now. Everything’s catching up to him at once and he can’t sort through it, can’t stop from shaking with anger and confusion; but how long can he _really_ stay out here, avoiding everything at home? 

 

He’s out in the desert, for fuck’s sake. The middle of nowhere in the middle of the night with nothing but a vast expanse of dusty road stretching out before him. No people. No animals. _Nothing._

He doesn’t know where he’s going or what he’s doing; all he knows is that he needs to physically separate himself from the situation as long as he possibly can. Away from Tig (who he will not hesitate to shoot right in the head if he sees him again). Away from the club (who is inevitably going to side with Tig, he just feels it in his gut). Away from Olivia (which upon seeing her injuries will bring him back to point A). 

Opie needs to be away from Charming for the time being.

In some recess of his mind, he _knows_ he should be there for Olivia, but he just can’t do it. The only thing that he can focus on now is the anger at Tig, at the club, at Olivia, and especially at _himself_ for not stopping it from escalating, when he knew damn well what had been going on in the past few months.

Apparently everyone—Tig especially—only cared about the _idea_ of Olivia, not the woman herself. They acknowledged that she was with Tig, but they didn’t bother looking past the superficial aspects to see what was _really_ going on within their relationship. It was like Olivia was alone in this, always had been—except for Opie. So he felt responsible for her, almost, since no one else seemed to care. 

Gemma told her to stick it out and be a good old lady, even if he did shitty things sometimes; Jax couldn’t be fucked to do anything but side with their mother; all of the other guys didn’t want to get involved with something that really had nothing to do with them. 

There’s Juice, of course; Opie sees that glimmer of light in his eye whenever he looks at Olivia, but she’d kept him at arms’ length for months and it seemed like he’d be just another crow in the murder. It’s the same way she treats Opie: she brings you close, and just when you think she’s finally opened up, there she is, closed off again. 

Opie knows that. He found out years ago that these kind of feelings he had were one-sided; Olivia wouldn’t love him like that, wouldn’t see him as anything more than her rock solid ‘ole buddy Ope who was there when she needed him, but never clued him in to what she was feeling. 

But what he doesn’t understand is why Juice is following her around like a lost puppy. And why she’s letting him so close _now_ when they’ve known each other for, what? A year? And they didn’t seem to talk much? Did something dramatic happen between them that caused her to change her mind? Is it something that Juice has that Opie doesn’t? He has no fucking clue.

 

But he does know that he let Olivia down. 

And now he’s just so _mad_ about what happenedthat he’s afraid that the next time he sees her he’ll yell at her just like Tig did. Tell her she should have listened to him, she should’ve fucking _listened_ all the times he told her how horrible their situation was, and she should have gotten away from Tig.  

Except she can be so distant, so utterly detached from everyone and everything sometimes that it’s truly worrisome. 

Olivia will have that barrier up before she meets people, and it would take her a while to let it down just a little bit; even when she’s with someone she’s known for years, that wall can shoot right up without any warning, and no one ever knew when that could happen. It’s not that she was unstable, it was just that she’s had enough struggles in her life to know that she can’t be so trusting of others no matter how well-intentioned they may be. 

Even with Opie, she’s had that wall up at times because she didn’t know the exact boundaries of their relationship. She didn’t tell him half of the crap that went on with her and Tig, her and Gem, hell, even her and Jax, and Opie knew that. 

Jax and Opie are best friends and really close as well, which makes Olivia hesitate to divulge _too much_ to him.Opie absolutely hates to see her hurting, but that barrier between them would just leave him feeling completely helpless. He’d even turn to the guys for support sometimes, trying to cover up with a scenario like _“my ‘friend’ has a problem…”_ but would end up making it a little too obvious that it was about Olivia. She knew he did it, and it’d caused several fights between them over the years, so at that point she’d just stopped trusting him with these secrets. Hence the higher wall, hence Opie’s anger.

 

Opie settles back on his bike and kicks it to life. He’ll head to the cabin. Be somewhere safe and reliable for now. Sort through shit before setting foot back in Charming.

 

Number one rule of the cabin is to always make sure the bar and fridge are stocked before you leave, and Opie is real fucking glad that it gets enforced. The cabin always acts as a hideout for the SAMCRO sons, either when there’s serious danger and they need to temporarily not exist, or just for the occasional bender when the guy wants to _pretend_ he doesn’t exist. Like Opie, right now.

He picks out a six pack of beer and some frozen dinners Gemma had made up and left in there, pops the food in the microwave and settles on the couch while he waits. The silence and stillness is almost as bad as it was out in the desert. It’s not comforting him like he thought it would. He manages to chug nearly an entire beer in one go, rocking back and forth a bit, trying to calm his racing mind, but he can’t, it’s still so loud in his head: _Olivia’s too stubborn, Olivia didn’t listen, Olivia doesn’t love you like that, Olivia Olivia Olivia._

The microwave beeps, and he’s quick to get the food out, quick to shovel it into his mouth and drink two more beers as fast as he can, trying anything to distract himself, but of course it’s not working. So he downs another beer. At least he has that warm fuzzy glow of an alcohol buzz going on. 

Time starts to slip by him in a haze, but now he’s not so much angry as he is upset. He hates drinking because it makes him way too emotional and way too upfront about exactly what he’s thinking, but at least he’s alone.

A weekend bender sounds fitting.

~ ~ ~ 

           It all feels too real, too vivid to her. 

           The sharp sting of his cologne caught in her nostrils. The wiry tickle of his chest hair rubbing against her back. His hands heavy and calloused and rough along her bare skin.

           She's back in her body, back at that night, when she was faced with someone she didn't know. That wasn't Alex. _Her_ Alex. 

           Or maybe it was. That was the real him, and the two years of their relationship prior to that was a total sham. He didn't really love her. Didn't really care about her. Just wanted the golden ticket in his possession so he could wave it around in everyone else's faces, to show that he had the ultimate prize, that he was the best around. 

           Olivia's trembling and shaking and the memory of Tig's hands around her throat won't leave her. She throws the covers off of her and rolls onto her back, then over onto her left side, not being able to find comfort. 

           The memories are sharp in her mind, she can't shake them, she only becomes enveloped by them.

           Whiskey and smoke and cologne getting closer and closer until that's all she's breathing in. The slur of his voice as he calls her _princess_ , talks over her pleas, insists this is what she wants, what she needs.

           The weight of him pressing her against the bureau, surrounding her, silencing her.

           The marks and bruises left on her skin the next day, angry red and purple finger prints bracketed against the curves of her hips. They'd been admired at one point, the marks indicating that she had someone who loved her, who made her _his_ , but now...She didn't want to be _owned_ , and that's what it felt like. A dark reminder that she was seen as a thing and not a woman.

           His voice was insistent, _you love this, you want this, you want me. Come on princess, I know how you like it_.

           She can't breathe, she can't breathe, it's all too much, she can't--

           Olivia jolts upright in bed with a strangled scream dying in her throat before she can let it out. The sun is bright and spilling out into her room, over the floor and her bed and her face. 

 

The weight of what happened last night, now coupled with the nightmare is sitting heavy on her chest, making it hard for her to breathe properly, making it hard for her to believe that she will get past this at some point. Now, all she feels is anger: with herself and with Tig; and disappointment in herself for letting it escalate that much. She should have ended it months ago.

She didn’t fight hard enough, she just lulled herself into some kind of trance, one where she knew what was going on between them and how much it had escalated since they first got together, but she kept convincing herself it’d end eventually. _That_ night was the absolute last straw, but of course by then it had reached critical status. 

 

           When Olivia finally makes her way out of bed and into the bathroom to wash her eyes, she hears the faint hum of the television, and a cheesy laugh track when she gets closer to the den. _The Flintstones_ is on, and Happy's sitting on her couch eating a bowl of cereal. Not totally shocking, just a bit unusual. She hasn't seen him like this—so quiet and vulnerable, really—since she was a kid. This cartoon-and-cereal thing was kind of their little secret whenever he was stuck babysitting her; right now, she felt so utterly relieved that he was here.

 

           She comes to a stop under the archway, just barely in the room where he can see her out of the corner of his eye. Happy nods and gets up to silently fix her a bowl as well, and she refuses it at first (just the thought of eating makes her stomach lurch), but he shoves it at her again.

           “You need to eat.”

           “I’m not hungry, Happy, really.”

           He takes one of her hands and sticks the bowl in it until her fingers curl around the rim. “Sit. Eat.”

           They’re quiet for a bit, with the just the TV and the small crunches of cereal filling the room. She was hungry, it seems, but she still doesn’t feel all that well.

 

           Finally, Olivia asks, “Chibs had to go?”

           “Yeah. Takin’ shifts.” Olivia looks like she’s about to protest, but he cuts her off. “We need to make sure you’re ok. So no arguin’ and no pouting. We ain’t leavin’ you alone.”

           She sets the half eaten bowl of cereal down on the table and curls up against the arm of the couch as a new episode starts. 

           The knock at the door startles her at first, and she can’t even control it; her heart is beating fast and she feels all the color drain from her face. Happy holds out a cautious hand to her as he slowly gets up from the couch, rests a hand against the gun tucked into the back of his jeans, and carefully goes to look out the window to see who it is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter's so short, but it's been a bit of a struggle to write it :/
> 
> I'm going to do my best to keep a semi-regular posting schedule, but it may take a bit longer between chapter because I'm in my last semester of college, and I have a lot of work to do in a short amount of time! So weekly updates may or may not be a thing...


	4. You Hold the Other Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jax goes to see his sister. Opie's still missing in action. Juice makes quesadillas.

Hold on, hold on tight. From out of your sight  
everything keeps moving on; make it through another night.  
Every day there comes a song with the dawn.  
Breathe In Breathe Out - Mat Kearney

******

March 2006

Happy immediately stops reaching for his gun once he takes a peek out the window, sees it’s Jax at the door. “All good.” He calls back to Olivia.

“Hey, man.” Jax leans in a little, lowers his voice. “How she doing? She up?”

“Yeah, she’s in here, come on.”

  


Olivia looks hopeful for a moment, like she thinks Opie is right behind him, but for once she’s kind of glad it’s Jax, by himself. She doesn’t know what she’ll say to Opie when he finally shows up; she doesn’t really need to think about it right now, honestly. 

The Teller siblings are definitely not the hugging type, but she gets up from the couch and slowly wraps her arms around her brother. It feels _weird_ , almost, and she feels a bit hesitant about hugging him firmly, but he starts first; he pulls her in and holds the back of her neck, mumbling a soft _I’m so sorry_. 

She thought she'd cried herself dry last night but suddenly, the tears were in abundance once again.

Gemma would probably have a conniption if she knew that they hadn’t pitted themselves against each other like she’d always hoped.

  


Happy slips out silently at one point, they didn’t really notice when, but Olivia pulls back and rubs at her eyes with the back of her hands.

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me cry, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, kid.”

  


It’s awkward, because they’ve never really had _bonding_ moments. They’re not that close, in all honesty; he always picked on her or ignored her completely (which Olivia is convinced was their mother's doing) except for the rare moment here and there. But Jax is trying his best. This is his baby sister after all. He’s already lost one sibling, and he would really like it if he didn’t lose another because he couldn't nut up and be there when she needed him.   

They’re quiet for a moment, both of them in their own heads, trying to figure out _what_ to say, _how_ to say it, where to go from here. At table last night, the club had decided on handling it as a personal matter, leaving Tig’s punishment (if he’ll even get any) up to Jax and Clay; they only had Tig’s half of what happened, so now they needed Olivia’s in order to decide. That’s mostly why Jax was here, to get her to tell him what happened. But as he’s sitting there looking at her, quiet and pale and not at all her usual self, he’s willing to spend more time with her, making sure she’ll be okay. That’s what big brothers are for after all, right?

“Ollie, I need to know what happened last night.” He says. “You don’t gotta tell me all of it right now, but the sooner you can, the better. Is that okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, just…Can we just sit here for a bit?”

Jax looks to her, and her lower lip is trembling, her eyes are glassy almost, and she looks…She doesn’t look like Olivia. 

He swallows hard, and he feels like there are tears catching in his throat as well, “Yeah, Oll. Take your time.” He grabs the remote off the table and turns the TV up. “Is it cool if I sit here and watch this with you in the meantime?”

“Yeah, that’d be okay, I guess.”

They sit there for a while, another episode rolls over and as the Flintstones theme song finishes, Olivia turns to him. 

“Will you keep this between us, Jax? Only…Only tell Clay, I guess so you can figure out what to do, but…”

“No one else, yeah. I can do that, Ollie.”

  


She swallows hard and shuts her eyes tight, keeps her voice quiet. “It wasn’t just a random bout of anger, y’know. He’d been…He has a hot temper, you know that. And, umm…Well we…He—we—”

“Okay, calm down, Olivia, just—” Jax huffs a quick breath. “Just tell me as much or as little as you want, okay? Just take your time, I’m listening.”

She offers a feeble nod, then continues to stare down at her fidgeting hands instead of at him. If she looks at him, she’ll lose it. 

“He’d…He’d hit me before. Few times. Nothing _too_ serious, just…” She sighs. “I didn’t tell anyone it was from him. Told mom I’d done it working the garage, or working on my car. I only ever told Opie. He kept telling me to walk away, but.” She shrugs. “Didn’t. Couldn’t. I don’t know. But I saw the way Ope looked at me. Like I was a fucking idiot for not leaving the first time. It’s not that easy, y’know? People say ‘ _he hit you, it’s over, end of story_ ’ but how can it be that simple when you love someone, when you trust them?” She pauses, and shakes her head a little like she’s in disbelief. “I think that may be the worst part, actually. That I still trusted Tig after it happened.”

“Olivia, why didn't you...Why didn't you come to me, why didn't you tell me?'

“Didn't really trust you, to be honest.”

“Did you, like, swear Opie to secrecy or something?”

She shrugs. “Kind of, not really. He said after the first time he was going to talk to you about it, but I guess he never did.”

He counted on Opie to look out for her most of the time, since the Teller siblings didn't talk all that much Jax had figured that at least their mutual best friend could make sure things were okay. Talking to Olivia about this now, seeing her with a cut and bruised face and tears in her eyes makes him realize that this shouldn't have been shouldered by Opie alone. _Jax_ is her brother. _He's_ supposed to be looking out for her, protecting her. He swore that to himself after Thomas died, that he wouldn't let Olivia slip away from him too. He fucked up. 

He should've seen how bad things had gotten between her and Tig, but typical Jax has his head so far up the club's ass that he can't see past it sometimes.

“No, he didn't tell me.” Jax says to her, then mumbles to himself, “I wish he'd told me.”

“I’m so sorry, Jackson.”

His eyes snap up to meet hers, he furrows his brow and tries to get her to look up at him, “Hey, hey, why are _you_ apologizing?”

“I don’t know.” She mumbles. “I should have told you, or someone else besides Opie but…I didn't...I couldn't...I don’t want to make you lose your sergeant.”

Jax sighs. “Club shit and family shit are separate.”

_Doesn’t seem that way to me sometimes_ , she thinks.

“When he’s at the table, when we’re out doing things for the club, we’ll have his back. But as a brother, or a friend? It ain’t gonna be the same.”

“But how could you separate it when you’re pretty much on club duty 24/7?”

He waves his hand around like he’s searching for the right words. “There’ll be a little part of me that won’t trust him, won’t like him all that much. But if we’re out, shit goes down, I gotta have his back and he’ll have mine. Once we’re safe and sound?”—He shrugs—“I ain’t gonna look at him or talk to him.”

“You can’t do that, Jax.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t—I can’t let you have that rift in the club because of what happened between us.” Olivia says. “I know I’m not too fond of being sucked into the MC life, but I know how much it means to you. I can’t in good conscience ruin it for you, for Clay.”

He shakes his head. “Olivia, if it was only up to me, I’d shoot his dick off and strip his patch. But he’s a solid brother, good soldier. He’s gotta stay in the club. There’ll be a bit of a disconnect between us, yeah, but it’s not going to destroy us. As far as I’m concerned, you take priority over Trager.”

Olivia loses it at that, the affirmation that her brother does care for her. After all the years of favoritism, of their mother taking Jax's side, making sure he was well taken care of and making the right decisions, and Olivia getting neglected unless it had something to do with the club, this was...This was almost too much for her to process at once, which of course brings about a new onset of tears. 

“Why're you cryin' again, Ollie?”

“I thought you'd hate me after this.”

There's a sharp sting of pain in Jax's chest when he hears that; he guesses he really let her down more than he'd thought.  
They sit in comfortable silence for a while after that until Jax's phone rings—something at TM needing his attention—he presses a kiss to her forehead, tells her he'll send someone over to look out for her in a bit, then he's off. 

~ ~ ~  ~

**A** **ugust 2001**

Gemma sat Olivia down on the stool in front of the vanity, and ran her fingers through the golden red waves of hair that fell about halfway down the girl's back.”

“You ever think of cutting this?”

“No!” Olivia practically yelps. “My hair is my _thing_. Like you with your hooker boots...This is the perfect length, it’s staying like this.”

“Well, as long as you don’t let it get too long. Or for some reason decide to cut it very short. Won’t leave enough to grab onto.”

“To grab on to?” Then it dawns on her and she grimaces. “Eww, mom—”

“Just sayin’!” Gemma runs her hands through Olivia’s hair again, with a pensive look on her face. “So. Seventeen tomorrow. One more year until the big one-eight.”

“Yep!”

“Know what that means…”

Olivia tries to turn and look up, but Gemma immediately turns her back to face forward. She separates a section of Olivia’s hair and divides it into three parts to start a braid. “You gotta start thinking about your future with the club, baby.”

“What about it?”

“Taking your place as an old lady.” Gemma ties off one braid and begins another, keeping her voice even and tone so _motherly_ , which she only does when she’s trying to manipulate her kids into doing something. Which happens at least twice a day for Olivia. “Way I see it…Your brother takes over in a few years. Hopefully _not_ with that skank as his old lady. And he’ll have Ope as his VP. With you as _his_ old lady.”

Olivia scoffs. “Mom, I’ll never be an old—OW!—” There’s a sharp tug of her hair.

“Never say never. I know how he looks at you, and how you look at him. ‘ _We’re_ just _friends,_ ’ my ass. That boy looks at you like you hung the god damn moon.” Gemma drops the hair she’s holding, and puts a hand on either of her daughter’s shoulders; she leans down just a little, maintains eye contact with the girl in the mirror. “He’s gonna need you, Olivia Jameson. You’re smart and intuitive and you won’t take any shit. You’re exactly what he needs, what the club needs.”

“Well, he’s not what _I_ need.” Olivia pauses. “At least not in the way you’re talking about.”

Gemma straightens herself up, snorts a little. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, sweetheart.”

As far as Gemma is concerned, Olivia was born and bred to be an old lady. She’d been pushing her daughter down that path slowly but surely for years, and now that Olivia’s almost eighteen, Gemma’s practically going into overdrive with the lectures and the badgering and the convincing, because that's when the era of “old lady” can begin. 

SAMCRO this. Old lady that. Opie needs you. Jackson needs you. My kids are going to be SAMCRO forever. Yadda yadda yadda. 

Jax always said he wanted it, wanted to sit at the table just like his father; there wasn’t much cajoling that needed to happen in that department. He was practically a small carbon copy of JT when it came to the mindset of club life.

But Olivia? No.

The Sons would always be a part of her life, she’d never escape them, but it didn’t have to be her _entire_ life like it had been with Gem. 

Olivia had seen what happened to most old ladies over the years; they were treated like shit most of the time and either got the courage to leave, or stayed and continued to take their lumps.

For Tara it was almost easy to switch off the “old lady” mode, be there for Jax when he needed her, but go off and do her own thing the rest of the time. Olivia admired her in that way, thought that if for some reason she _did_ end up being an old lady, she had at least one example of a woman having it all. 

But there’s no escape for Olivia when she has Gemma’s voice constantly in her head. Like Jax was destined for the president's seat, she was destined to be another den mother for the Sons.

“There.” Gemma ties off the last braid in Olivia's hair, and steps back. “Pretty as a peach. No way that boy can resist you lookin' like this.” She smirks to herself, proud. “Now come on, I need some help with dinner.”

~ ~ ~ ~ 

Olivia pushes her lo mein around and around on her plate, ever-so-casually talking to Opie while he's engrossed in _House Hunters_.

“Ope?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you think about me being an old lady?”

He snorts a laugh, his shoulders shaking as it echoes across the room, but once he sees the firm set to Olivia’s mouth,  he knows she’s serious, but it’s still hard to stop laughing. “Sorry, Oll, just—you definitely ain’t gonna be an old lady.”

“Like I _can’t_ be one, or I _won’t_ be one?”

“Won’t,” He says. “You’ve got plenty of balls to be one, but that ain’t the life for you.”

“I have plenty of balls? Well that’s a lovely thing to say to a young lady.”

He shoves her shoulder a bit, “Shut up, I don’t mean it like that.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Ollie—”

“Okay, balls aside…” She shifts herself so she has one leg tucked under the other and she’s fully facing him. “If I did somehow end up being an old lady…I wouldn’t suck at it, right?”

“Gemma at it again with the lectures?”

Olivia slumps against the pillow in her lap, mumbles, “Yeah. Except now she’s upped her game, and she’s telling me exactly who I should be with instead of talking in general terms like she's been doing.”

“Who? Chibs? Bobby?” He gasps. “Oh God, its Bobby, isn’t it?”

This time she’s the one shoving his shoulders, and she’s trying to fight back a smile but failing. “That isn’t funny, Ope!”

“It’s a little funny! Also a little gross.”

“ _You’re_ gross, you numbskull.” She pauses for a moment, speaking a bit softer this time. “No, it’s…She said it should be you. I should be your old lady when you’re Jax’s VP. She’s planning your life out too, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Huh.”

“ _Huh_? That’s it? No snide comment?”

He shrugs. “It’s not _that_ terrible. Better’n picturing you and Bobby goin’ at it.”

“Will you stop that?!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

Opie shifts himself a little so he’s mirroring the same position Olivia is in, until their knees are touching and he can grab the pillow away from her.

“Well, I don’t think you’ll ever be an old lady. That just ain’t your scene. But…” He pauses. “If for some reason you _do_ get more involved with SAMCRO…I guess I wouldn’t mind havin’ you at my side.”

Olivia smiles at that. “Thanks, Ope.”

“Yeah, sure.” He shifts again, and when his back hits the sofa, he chuckles. “You bein' my old lady, oh man. You give me enough shit as it is, and we ain't even married.”

“Shut up, Winston.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

**MARCH 2006**

As soon as Jax arrives at the shop, Gemma's already in the doorway of the office, trademark scowl set on her lips and arms folded across her chest.

“Hey Jackson.”

“Hey ma.”

Gemma pulls him in for a hug, a quick kiss on the cheek, then gestures for him to follow her inside the office. “You seen your sister? Her shift was supposed to start an hour ago and she's not pickin' up her phone. I told her she can't be slackin' off anymore.”

Jax stops in his tracks and his eyes go wide. “Shit, no one told you what went down last night?”

“What are you talking about?” Gemma's voice gets strangled. “What happened last night?”

He closes the office door behind him and sits on the couch; he looks at the floor, has a brief flashback to last night, seeing Olivia in a heap, blood dripping down her cheek as she screamed herself hoarse. He shudders.

“Jackson, what happened?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes tight. “She and Tig got into this...He just...” Jax sighs. “Tig almost killed her last night. Right here.”

Gemma clutches at her chest, fingers dancing across her scar as she feels it tighten, feels her heart thumping irregularly. She mumbles in disbelief, “What? What do you mean?”

“Hit her and nearly choked her out. We got there in time, though.”

“Where is she, is she okay, does she—”

“She's home, she's okay. Her face is cut up and she's bruised, but.” He breaks off with a shrug. “I don't know if it'll help, but maybe you could see her. And be nice for once.”

“Can it, Jax. Don't got time for your pissy attitude.” Gemma grabs her purse and heads right out the door without looking back. 

~ ~ 

Jax knew that Juice and Olivia were pretty good friends, so he asked the kid to go over and check on Olivia.

Juice didn't see her last night—he's glad he didn't, because he probably would have killed Tig in cold blood if he did—and his stomach is in knots now as pulls into her driveway and cuts the engine on his bike. 

What is he going to say to her? _Sorry your ex-boyfriend's an asshole. Sorry you got beat up? Sorry I didn't try to help you when I saw how bad things were getting?_

He shudders at the memory of that night, tries to kick it out of the forefront of his mind, and he rings the doorbell. Olivia probably won't even want to see him right now, but there's really no one else, because Opie was MIA, Chibs was off doing club shit, and Happy was with her all night.

His train of thought is cut off as Gemma answers the door, scowl on her face, muttering, “You. Of course.” she throws a look back over her shoulder before pushing past him. “She's all yours. Poor little princess is pouting.”

Juice scoffs; he'll never understand these two, never understand how a mother can treat her daughter so poorly. But alas. He swallows hard and gently makes his way inside. The living room is directly to the right, the tv on but silent; he can hear small hiccups coming from the couch.

“Liv?” He peeks over the back of the sofa, and there she is curled in a ball, crying. “Liv, you okay?”

She scrambles a bit, tries to cover her face and clear her throat before turning to him. “Juice, hey. What are you doing here?”

“Jax said it'd be okay to check in with you, thought maybe you could use company. I tried callin', but you didn't answer.”

“Yeah, Gemma—” She cuts off, shakes her head. “Never mind. Same old shit. But thanks for coming, really.”

Olivia totally wasn't ready to see him, honestly he was one of the last people she wanted to see since he was right there with Opie on the “leave Tig” thing, and they did have that _thing_ the night she came to his house. But there's no way she could kick him out now.

“You look,” He cuts himself off. Don't say pretty. Don't say shitty. Just change the subject immediately. “You eat anything today?”

She shrugs. “Bit of cereal before.”

“Alright, I'll make you lunch, if that's okay with you.”

“Why is everyone so concerned about my eating habits today?”

“Because you forget to eat when you're upset, I know that, everyone knows that.” He freezes for a moment. Was that too much? “And besides, my quesadillas will make anyone feel better.”

“How do you know I have supplies to make that?”

“Because I stocked your fridge last week, remember? Said we had to be ready for an impromptu cooking session.” He chuckles. “Also have supplies for mac and cheese, and chicken cacciatore. Lady's choice.”

  


Juice keeps her occupied and distracted with food, with movies and with video games; no mention of the Sons, no mention of last night. She's grateful.

“Thank you, Juan Carlos.” She says quietly, while they're waiting for the Rainbow Road level to load up. “I'm glad you're here.”

“Yeah, me too.” A pause. He knows she hasn't mentioned it, but she's thinking it, he's sure, that's just how she works. “And, uh. No one's heard from Ope yet, but...I'll keep an eye out for him.”

_I'll._ She didn't miss that. Juice taking this into his own hands, like it's his ultimate mission.

“You don't have to do that—”

“I don't need to, but I want to.” Juice sighs. “He's your best friend, Liv, he should be here. He don't really seem like the type to just up and leave when shit happens.”

“He's not,” she mumbles. “That's why this is kinda freaking me out a lot. Opie never runs. So why now? It's kind of making me take it personally...”

“It's not personal, sweetheart.” He scoots over to the other side of the couch where she is; he wants to put his arm around her shoulder, or hold her hand or something, but he doesn't know if she'll be okay with that. He moves his hand slightly, then draws it back.

Olivia looks at him, then down to his hand, and back up to his face.

“It's okay, Juice.”

“Hmm?”

“You can—” She breathes out a laugh. “You can—you don't have to—It's okay to touch my arm or something, if you want.”

“Oh, I...Umm...It's—if you want me to, I can.”

“Please?”

He puts his arm around her shoulder and doesn't really intend to pull her in, but she does that on her own; she nestles her cheek  against his chest, right underneath his collarbone like that spot was made to fit her perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy I'm sorry for taking so long to post. I had a ton of school work and then my laptop kicked the bucket :( but good news! chapter 5 is almost totally done already so that should be up sooner rather than later! thanks for reading, and if you wanna come say hey, i'm at juancarlosortiz.co.vu :)


	5. But I Used to Be Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a first time for everything...

 

It feels like we're ready to crack these days, you and I  
when it's just the two of us,  
only the two of us, I could die  
Black Chandelier - Biffy Clyro

* * *

**March 2006**

Opie’s still at the cabin, a stumbling hazy mess of shoulda-coulda-woulda, thinking of the ways things could have happened had everything worked out. If Olivia hadn’t gotten with Tig in the first place. If she was completely and utterly _his_ , just in a different way than she’d always claimed.

  
But, she is her mother's daughter; too headstrong, too stubborn, unwilling to stray from whatever path she's been set on. Plus, it seems like she doesn’t know a good thing when it’s right in front of her, either.  
And outside of her own little bubble, she couldn't seem to come to grips with what he'd been saying all along. Didn't heed his warnings, didn't take his advice, and lied to his face on top of it.

  
Bruises on her arms. “Are you kidding me right now? Leave him!”  
Black eye. “Ollie. Leave him.”  
Split lip. “Olivia, God, I told you to leave him!”

  
And now look at her. He really can’t do anything about it. Except kill Tig. But where would that leave them? Olivia wouldn't trust him again after something like that.  
Maybe she’d be better off that way, since he couldn’t seem to protect her or get any ideas through her thick skull anyway.  
“ _I’ll always protect you_ my ass.” He mumbles to himself. “Whole lotta good that did.”  
He feels like he’s wasted his time, almost; all the nights of holding her and keeping her company and whispering promises that were falling on deaf ears.  
“You’re lucky you don’t gotta deal with this shit. Unless lady moose do this too, I dunno.” Opie polishes off his whiskey and tilts the empty glass up to the moosehead mounted on the wall, his conversational partner. “But why did she have to do this, man? Sixteen, fuckin’ sixteen years old, I told her to stay out of Tig’s sight. I—I—I mean, I fuckin’ took care of her, I did everything to that girl, everything she wanted so she’d be—so she’d be ready for him. It’s like she used me as a toy. Didn’t care about my feelin’s or nothin’.  
I had her. I had her right where I wanted her, in my arms, in bed. She was mine. And she left to be with him. If I knew it was him, I never woulda let it happen. Woulda chopped his dick off before it got anywhere near her.” He takes a pull from his beer. “He took advantage of her, I hated that. Hated it so god damn much, but she was too stupidly infatuated with him to see the bad side.”

Opie's up off the couch and pacing back and forth, mumbling a slew of fucks and blaming himself for everything happening. “Fuck that, fuck her, fuck all this. I gave her a million chances and she said no, so fuck that!”  
Then a beat. A sigh. “I lied, moose. I love her so much and holy shit Tig hurt her so bad! And—and and and I—I couldn’t protect her, I was supposed to protect her, that was my job. And she’ll never want me now!”  
He takes a drink, grumbles. “No. Know what? She coulda left him. Instead she’s like ‘oh Opie do me a favor and have sex with me!' I mean, who the FUCK does that?! Usin' me like some trial and error bullshit.” A pause. “Bet she never had as good a time with Trager.”  
The moose doesn't respond, but he continues.  
“She don’t owe me a fucking thing, and that’s the sad truth. She never made me think she loved me like that, so why the fuck am I cryin’ about it now? I just wish it hadn’t been Tig. Son of a bitch is so fucking smug and I hated the way he looked at her.”  
He looks at the moose and sighs. “I love her, man. That’s the bottom line. I love her and I couldn’t protect her, so what’s the fucking point of me stickin' by her side?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
Olivia's lost track of time; everything's a blur of television marathons and different Sons coming to look after her. Juice tells her it's been four days since it happened, and Olivia just sighs, then asks for HGTV to be put on. The day goes by rather quickly, both of them being jolted awake when they hear the rumble of a bike in her driveway.

  
“Ah shit, what time is it?” He mumbles.  
“Dunno. 's nearly dark though, looks like.”  
“Guess someone else is coming to stay with you.”

It's Chibs at the door; Olivia protests when he asks her to get up and get in the bathroom so he can change her bandages, but it's no use fighting him. She doesn't have the strength to argue about it, anyway.

  
“Go on, Liv. I'll see you tomorrow, ok?” Juice says.  
Olivia nods and gives him a little wave before disappearing down the hall.

  
“So.” he sighs and turns to Chibs. “Any updates?”  
“Aye. Found Ope. Up at the cabin.”  
“Oh good. That's a relief.”  
“We're gonna send someone out for him.”  
“I'll go.”  
Chibs gives him a look. “Yeah?”  
“Yeah. Told Liv—Olivia. I would. Promised her.”  
“Alright. Let us know how it goes, yeah?”

  
Juice nods and heads out, planning to go straight up to the cabin to get Opie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
**August 2002**

It’s movie night, Olivia’s turn to pick what they’re watching, which, nine times out of ten is a romantic comedy (which Opie fake dreads; he acts like he hates these cheesy and dumb movies so much, but he actually likes them. Most of them, anyway), but tonight she’s being…quiet. Usually she’s talking his ear off about anything and everything that crosses her mind, or she’s singing at the top of her lungs to whatever mixtape she has on, but now she’s just heating up the food without saying a word.

  
He’s leaning in the doorway for a while just watching, and when he hears her sigh for the fifth time in a minute, he finally takes the bait. “You alright, Teller?”

“Hmm?” She vaguely looks over in his direction, distracted, before looking back at the pan on the stove. “Oh yeah, fine. Fine, Ope.”

  
“Sure? You’re awful quiet.”

“Yeah, just…Thinking.”

“Thought I smelled somethin’ burnin’.” He snorts. That saying always gets a laughing-feigning-anger reaction out of her, except for right now, apparently. She keeps stirring the food, and he tries to get her attention, “Ollie?”

“What?” His words catch up to her just then, and she shakes her head like she’s trying to clear the fog. “Sorry, food’ll be done in a minute or so, go put the movie in.”

Opie does just that, doesn’t ask her anything else even though he wants to. She joins him on the couch, food in hand, a few minutes later and they sit in silence as the opening for 10 Things I Hate About You starts. Opie waits until Cameron starts planning how he’s going to woo Bianca before he pauses the film and turns to her.

“Alright, can you just tell me what’s on your mind? You havin’ trouble with something? Do you need my help?”

She sighs and turns a bit until their knees are touching, but she keeps her head down and eyes fixated on the plate in her hands. “This is…This is kinda strange and totally stupid and colossally weird…” She swallows hard. “And I want to ask, but I don’t really want to ask, but I need—”

“Just spit out, Ollie. No harm, no foul, just ask me.”

“You’ll probably regret saying that after I ask,” she mumbles to herself. Olivia finally looks up at Opie, _her_ Opie, and he’s got that worried little scrunch between his brows which she smooths with her thumb. “You know I love you, right?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Okay, because that’s important. I want you to remember that.” A pause. “And I know we’re…you and I are…we’re…”

“Us?”

She smiles. “Yeah. Us. Remember…Ah! Remember when I was fourteen and so upset about Jared Collins not wanting to be my first kiss because he didn’t like redheads? And I was so upset that no one would ever kiss me? And then I asked you what it was like to kiss someone.”

Opie nods. Of course he remembers; for him it was a favor, something easy he could do to make his best friend stop crying. It was quick and easy, just a quick peck in between games of Mario Kart, and she was so happy about it she literally skipped away from him after.

Olivia had become more assured of herself after that, and worried less and less about other people’s opinions about her, and for Opie, that was the best thing he could’ve helped her with.  
It was still something they did now, the kissing thing, as a quick hello or goodbye or thank you; it was just them, this thing they always did, no big deal.  
But now, it was maybe a bit different. Olivia’s older, and so is he, and…yeah, he’s been seeing her just a bit differently since her infamous sixteenth birthday party, but. This is still them, Opie and Olivia, when it all boils down.

“Well…” She says, bringing him back into the moment. “Could you maybe…Umm…Do me another favor of a similar nature? Only if you want to, though, no pressure!”

Opie’s not really blinking, just looking at her expectantly, “Well, what is it?”

“I, umm…You and I…” Olivia breaks off with an exasperated sigh, “Fuck, never mind, why am I even bothering—”

“Just say it, Ollie! It’s okay!”

She shuts her eyes tight and rushes out the words on one breath, “Will you have sex with me?”

 

It’s silent.

 

She creaks one eye open a beat later to get a peek at him, and he’s got that furrowed brow look again and his mouth’s open in a little “o” like he froze mid-sentence.

“See, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything, I was so stupid for even—”

“Olivia.”

She snaps to attention as he covers her hand with his. “Why?” He continues. “I mean, like… Why’re you askin’? Why aren’t you just, like…Gettin’ in a relationship with someone and fallin' in love and doin' it with them?”

Olivia shrugs, and starts twisting their fingers together to distract herself. “I did have someone in mind, but not for right now…I don’t trust him enough yet, or trust myself even. I want to be…”--She lets out a quick breath--“I want to know the basics of what I’m doing before I initiate anything. What it'd feel like every step of the way. There’s a big difference between using a toy on yourself, or using your fingers, and having an actual person on top of you, inside of you.”

“Ollie!”

“What? I’m serious, Opie.”

He looks down at their hands for a moment, because what the fuck? How did she make the leap from platonic, chaste kisses to full-on intercourse? Honestly, he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t thought about it since her birthday last year, but actually having it happen? He has no clue. This is still his best friend, his best friend who’s almost like a sister to him, and this is…This is like a milestone. And she wants it to be with him? Fuck.

Opie struggles to form the words a bit, but finally he thinks he can word it just so. “I don’t know, Ollie. Shouldn’t there be, like…Boundaries? Or something? I know we kiss sometimes, and cuddle and stuff, but. This is somethin’ else. This is real serious.”

“Honestly, there’s no one I trust more than you, Harry. That’s why I’m asking. This is me and you. Us. Remember?” Her voice goes soft. “You were my first kiss, Ope….And you may or may not have been the star of my first wet dream—”

“WHAT?!”

“Hey, hey. Speaking, here.” Olivia clears her throat. “What I’m saying is…I’d feel really safe and comfortable if you could be my first for this too. What do you say?”

Opie closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath. “First of all, you're not eighteen yet, Oll. I can't--”

“I'm turning eighteen next week, it's close enough. I'm a consenting adult. Kinda.”

“I ain't goin' to jail for you.”

“And here I thought we were thick as thieves.”

“Olivia.”

“Not legal. I know, Opie.” She pats his cheek. “It's the same person, same body that I'll have by next week. It's not like some magical transformation is going to happen as soon as the clock strikes midnight on my birthday. It's me, okay? I am fully consenting. I will not tell anyone. No one will know.”

Opie sighs. Rolls his eyes a bit (he spends way too much time with Olivia; her mannerisms are starting to rub off on him). Not okay in the eyes of the law, and not okay in the eyes of Gemma Teller-Morrow; two of the scariest entities he's ever come across in his life, and he would very much like to keep his life. But Olivia's right here—he can feel her whole body vibrating they're so close—and it's true. No one will know but them. It makes his heart swell and makes the nerves die down a bit, and he concedes. “No one, okay. Just you'n'me.” He puts a hand on either of her cheeks, leans in just a bit until their foreheads are touching, and he crosses his eyes a bit to look into hers. “You want this?”

“Yeah I do.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He closes his eyes and pulls away from her, but keeps his hands on her cheeks. “Okay. Okay, I guess—If you really want me to—”

“Thank you, Opie!” Olivia hugs hum with fervor. “Thank you, thank you! You're the best, the best! People should build a statue in your honor, you should have a national holiday all to yourself!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He snorts a laugh. “So, come on, I guess. We'll go in the other room.”

“Oh, we’ll head to the _boudoir_?”

Opie shakes his head and sighs. “You're so weird, Oll, I swear.”

“Yes I am, Mr. Winston. Now take me away!”

 

 

So now, all of a sudden, Opie feels….he feels weird. Why did he accept? Why did he say he'd do this for Olivia? He could have easily said “no, sorry, I don't think that's a good idea,” and she would've accepted it and moved on. A part of him is screaming and blaring a red warning light, saying not to go any further. This could ruin what they have. Could make their relationship strained and awkward and they'll never be the same. He can't afford to lose her, and vice versa.

Another part of him is setting off fireworks and blasting Barry White, because this is a totally great idea! He is going to get his rocks off with a beautiful girl who's begging him to teach her about sex. It's almost every boy's fantasy. Those two sides are battling and making his head feel like crackling static because he's so conflicted, doesn't know what he's getting himself into, but when he feels Olivia tugging on his arm, looking at him with those big eyes sparkling with excitement, he can drown everything out. Just realize that this is Olivia Jameson Teller. His best friend. His other half. His forever-ever girl. She's loving him and trusting him enough to let this happen.

Opie comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, taking Olivia's other hand as well and swinging her arms back and forth in the space between their bodies. “Well, this is it. The master suite.”

“How lovely.”

“Do you need anything before we—”

“Oh, uh.” Olivia scrunches her nose as she tries to think. “I'm good, I think. What about you?”

“Good, good.”

 

Olivia pulls one hand free from Opie's and brings it up to his face, fingertips dancing across the cluster of freckles on his right cheek. Her voice is light, easy and effortless as she says “Hey, Harry.”

He smiles a little at that, whispers back, “Hey, Olivia.”

“So I guess….This is it.”

“It is.”

“I'm ready, I think.”

“You gotta be sure, sweetheart.”

Olivia nods her head briskly, and looks up at him. “Totally sure.”

“You can back out any time, Olivia. Please just—please just say something if you want to stop.”

She nods her head.

“Please, say it.”

“I promise, Ope. I’ll say something if I need to, okay?”

Opie leans his forehead against Olivia’s, and brings his hands up to cup her face. Her cheeks are flaming hot to the touch, and the thumping pulse point in her throat reverberates through his fingertips.  
The tip of his nose just barely brushes hers, and he tilts his head until their lips are close, so close that she just has to lift her chin a bit and—

This is different.

Familiar, but different. His lips are warm and just a bit chapped with the sticky-sweet of soda still lingering on them. Olivia parts her lips just a bit to slot his bottom lip between hers, suck on it a little, nibble a little. Opie sighs into her, tightens his hand just a little bit in her hair and deepens the kiss.  
It’s purely instinct now, just the two of them kissing and sucking and groping without any pause or discomfort. They fit together. Thinking about Olivia like this, thinking about her freely with that warm tingle in the pit of his belly and having her right here makes Opie dizzy.

And Olivia, she could just let whatever happen and not have to worry about being in danger or uncomfortable at any point; that’s why she went to Opie, because she knew that no matter what, he’d take care of her. If at any point she needed to stop, he would, at the drop of a hat without complaining or getting mad at her. He'd look out for her like he always did.  
She starts grabbing at the hem of his shirt to try and ruck it up his body, the tips of her fingers finding the soft flesh on his tummy and dancing across it.

“Can we get this off?” She mumbles in between kisses. “Less clothes! We don’t need clothes.”

Opie obligingly takes it off in almost one swift motion—it gets caught on his head a little which makes Olivia laugh—and before he can duck back down to resume the kissing, Olivia’s got her mouth on his chest, right above the grim reaper on his sternum that’s only a few months old.

“Still only a prospect and you've already got the reaper.” She runs her tongue along it. “You gonna get more ink? I kinda like this one.” Kisses it. “Suits you.”

“Mhmm ‘m gonna get more.” He says. “Thinkin’ of getting’ one on my ass next. Whaddaya think of that?”

Olivia feels drunk almost, on giggles and excitement and Opie. She’s still kissing up and down his chest, his breathing coming in shaky, hard pants that’s making her a bit dizzy, and she tugs just a little bit of flesh between her teeth to bite gently. “Sounds interesting. I dare you to do it.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhmm. Get a butterfly on your right cheek.”

“With 'property of Olivia Gable' right underneath it.”

Opie takes her face in his hands and leans down to kiss her, harder, not wasting any time in sliding his tongue against hers, tasting her, sucking on her lower lip. He could spend hours like this, just have her body pulled against his and his mouth on hers. Take his time. Know her in a completely different way than the way he does now.  
He pulls away from her briefly, just to ask, “Can I take this off?” As he tugs at her shirt. She kisses him again with fervor, shivering as his rough fingertips brush her hips, her tummy, her ribs, all the way up until her shirt was off and discarded somewhere across the room. Olivia goes right back into the kissing, and Opie drags his hands slowly up her sides and around her back; he stops when he hit her bra strap, unsure if he should without asking.

“Oll?”

“Mhmm,” she says, knowing exactly what he meant. She nips at his jaw in between words, “Rest of the clothes can go. No need to ask each time.”

He unhooks the bra, slides it off her and tosses it away without even really looking at her chest, he just hauls her closer, feels the goosebumps on her skin up against his and its delicious and warm and he can’t get enough, he needs her closer.  
Opie slides his fingers into the waistband of her jeans, moves to kiss along her jaw, down her throat, nipping at her collarbones, and he’s undoing the button and zipper at the same time. They’re shoved down enough that she wriggle the rest of the way out and kick them off, then she’s doing the same for him until they’re both standing there in their undies. Opie’s dark grey boxer briefs tented and slightly damp already, Olivia’s light blue boy shorts sporting a dark spot of their own.

He breathes out a laugh when he looks down at her, and she pokes at his chest a little trying to stifle a laugh of her own. “Somethin’ funny, big guy?”

“Nah, just—” Opie snaps the elastic of her panties (eliciting a little yelp from her) and chuckles again. “Looks like you’re a little worked up already.”

“Sweetheart trust me, I was worked up since the moment I walked through your front door tonight.”

His eyes go a little wide at that, he whispers, “Really?”

“Yep.” Olivia snaps the band on his boxers. “You’ve just got that effect on me I guess.”

Without another comment, Opie grabs her by the back of her thighs and hauls her up; she gasps in surprise, and her legs find their way around his waist. But God he’s trying to wrap his head around the fact that Olivia, this Olivia…She’d been cooking dinner and sitting on his couch watching some dumb movie…wet?

It’s too much.

They’re still kissing and he’s holding her up like she weighs nothing and he honestly doesn’t want to let her go. He’d be happy like this, just for a while longer.  
Reluctantly, he does let her down, still holding on as her back hits the bed and she pulls him down after her. Olivia keeps dragging her nails across his scalp through his freshly cut hair, and every single motion makes him shiver. He’d always planned on growing it out one day, because he’d love to have it pulled. Maybe by Olivia.

Okay, most definitely by Olivia.

She trails her hands down his back, over his ass for a little squeeze, then back up again. “Too many clothes.” She mumbles. “More naked. Less fabric.”

“We’ve barely got anythin’ on as it is, babe.”

“Still too much. Boxers off.”

Opie gets up, slowly wiggles out of his boxers, and throws himself back onto the bed with a giggling Olivia…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Uh....Long time no see. This story went on the backburner for a while. A really long while. My bad. Blah blah blah personal stuff and writers block.
> 
> BUT I'm gonna do my best to get it updated more often, because there is a lot more story to tell.


End file.
